(A drone fades up and is soon joined by an acoustic guitar plucking out I and IV chords)

Are you still with me?1 It’s been quiet I’ve had time to tend to my thoughts So I figure you might’ve done the same And are you okay? I don’t think that we came through this way2

I think it’s funny The way the silence Has a gentle strength to tug at the knots Binding the secrets hiding in my brain And is that okay? I don’t think we’ll be getting home before the dark

In the mist3, an elemental hold4 Catch a whiff of spiritual molding5 In the air I felt you brush beside Now you’re where and I’m left wondering why6

And I still miss you When it gets quiet I think of all the things I said and didn’t say7 And hope that you’re okay But secretly I may Hide you letters in the alleyway8

(dog barking in the distance)9

Footnotes

  1. This was always the opening line of the song. However, once Wilderin and this song both existed, this line always had to come after that 7-minute thought spiral of a tune. ↩

  2. The original conceit was to write a song that was only one half of a conversation, and that half was missing the key details. How much could be conveyed by responses? That led me a little further to where it is now. ↩

  3. A happy accident that we have a “In The XYZ” to tie to the album title. Before this was the title, it was simply called “Brushed Light” as the title of the voice memo and the sound-feeling it gave me hearing the plucked Cadd9 chord shape on guitar. ↩

  4. Water droplets binding to air, as if spirit could be bound to space, as if being alone could actually be being with someone else. ↩

  5. I am fascinated by the connection between our sense of smell and memory. ↩

  6. As I continued to explore this “one half of a conversation” prompt, I arrived at a more compelling (to me) scene of spending time with someone not there anymore. Left ambiguous as to still alive or passed away. ↩

  7. This line was in my head thanks to the album of the same name by The Milk Carton Kids. ↩

  8. An attempt at a twist ending. Are they corresponding with someone alive? Or is more like a votive candle? ↩

  9. Our parting note on the album is not a sunrise, but it is first light. An attempt at connection, and more to the point, a belief that connection is possible despite the circumstances that suggest it’s not. There were a few songs left on the cutting room floor that almost attempt to make an “In The Light” second-half of this album, but I found ending it here it a little more compelling (and easier to publish, if I’m being honest!). THe final moment of the album features Clover, Sarah’s dog, barking during one of vocal takes. A happy accident that I like to imagine as the sounds waking up our protagonist from the dream, finding the monsters nowhere to be found in the morning light. ↩